


Sunday Morning

by feisty_one



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dreams, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feisty_one/pseuds/feisty_one
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John dreams of his perfect Sunday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me in the shower. First work here, not beta'd. Based on my favorite Maroon 5 song. Listen to it here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2Cti12XBw4
> 
> Sunday morning,  
> Rain is falling  
> Steal some covers,  
> Share some skin  
> Clouds are shrouding us  
> In moments unforgettable  
> You twist to fit the mold  
> That I am in
> 
> ~Maroon 5~

It is one of those lazy Sunday mornings. The sky is gray with rain, a chill in the air. John snuggles deeper under the covers, feeling Sherlock’s warmth behind him. It’s a perfect morning for snuggling deeper under the covers, the warmth of your lover next you. Sherlock presses soft kisses against his shoulder, up his neck and behind his ear whispering, “good morning,” while his hand drifts up John’s chest, softly caressing him.

John mumbles in his sleep, wiggling back seeking his love. He turns reaching for the detective intent on pulling him close and returning the kisses, coming up empty. John blinks the sleep away and sighs wishing it had been his perfect Sunday morning.

John throws the covers off, slipping his feet into slippers and pulling on his robe. He shuffles down the hall to the stairs, descending with the intention of making tea, his mind still wrapped in the dream. He can still feel Sherlock’s plump lips on his body, the warmth of his long gangly body snuggled up against his back, the long violinist’s fingers stroking up his chest. 

Sherlock is in his chair, laptop propped on his knees checking email. John passes by Sherlock, the dream still occupying his thoughts, he absent mindedly strokes his hand across Sherlock’s shoulder leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head murmuring, “Morning, love.” John continues on to the kitchen flipping the switch on the kettle to make tea. As he reaches for the mugs, he freezes realizing what he has just done. Shit! 

John hears Sherlock enter the kitchen and turns to see Sherlock standing just inside the kitchen doors. The room is heavy with silence and tension. John fears he has just ruined the best thing he ever had. Everything will change now, there is no going back, no forgetting what he just said, just did. 

Sherlock approaches him. John rubs his hand over his face trying to control his emotions. He peers up at Sherlock trying to deduce him and failing. Sherlock crowds into John’s space, leaning into him, pressing his lips to John’s softly, briefly, testing. John inhales deeply and brings his hand to grasp the back of Sherlock’s neck, kissing him chastely. He then continues to press soft kisses to one side of Sherlock’s mouth and the other. He nibbles at the seam of Sherlock’s lips causing him to moan and open his mouth to John. Sherlock runs his hands slowly up John’s back, feeling the muscles and strength. He presses his blogger closer to him as their tongues dance together. John’s hand slides up into those luscious curls gently tugging as they continue to learn each other’s taste. John withdraws slightly, gazing up into Sherlock’s luminescent eyes. Sherlock grins down him and says, “Love?” John chuckles sheepishly, reaches down for Sherlock’s hands pulling him towards the stairs. “Let me show you what my dream Sunday morning would entail.”


End file.
